


Different Time Zones

by XtinaJones91



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Falling Asleep On The Phone, Friendship, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Missing your best friend, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Friendship, Sonnett in Sweden, Time Zones, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtinaJones91/pseuds/XtinaJones91
Summary: It’s been eight months and Lindsey thought she might be over it by now, but she’s not. Her best friend got traded away in January and she hasn’t seen her in person since March and it sucks.Yes, it's another post-trade, Sonnett-in-Sweden, Lindsey coping with the separation fic
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	Different Time Zones

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure what this story is or where it's going, but have this first (and maybe only) chapter.
> 
> Takes place sometime back in August/September.
> 
> Title from the song "Timezone" by The Shadowboxers

It’s been eight months and Lindsey thought she might be over it by now, but she’s not. Her best friend got traded away in January and she hasn’t seen her in person since March and it _sucks_.

She knew it would be hard, that it would be an adjustment, living in Portland without Sonnett. She got a dog, she was still with her now-ex ( _permanently_ ex this time); she thought it would eventually be fine. Instead everything got worse. And now it’s been eight months in Portland without Sonnett and she’s still rebuilding her life.

It wasn’t just Sonnett she lost - it was also Ellie and Cait and everything that was familiar to her; her foundation crumbled beneath her. And yeah, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but one day everything was the way it had always been and the next it was all gone.

She’s friends with her other teammates, likes them all as individuals, has taken Sophia under her wing, but it wasn’t the same as the bond the four of them had. And no one understood her like Sonnett did. 

She was adrift in the early weeks and months of it, lost and confused and unsure of why she was feeling the trade so deeply. She would still get to see Sonnett for National Team camps and games, she still talked to Sonnett almost every day (often multiple times a day), but it was like she was missing a phantom limb, a core piece of her life and who she was no longer there.

She had to stop herself on more than one occasion from texting Sonnett to go get coffee, or to remind her to pick her up for training, or to ask her if she wanted to come over to play Mario Kart. Her brain just _forgot_ sometimes that Sonnett was across the country in Florida, and not a few blocks down the street.

And then it wasn’t just the entire United States that separated them but also a whole damn ocean when Sonnett left for Sweden. It was hard enough to line up their lives to allow for semi-regular communication with three hours between them; _nine_ hours required so much more math and left them with very few moments each week to talk properly.

Sweden was right for Sonnett, they both knew that. It didn’t stop Lindsey from selfishly wishing none of this had happened and that 2020 was just a bad dream she’d soon wake up from. And it didn’t stop her from hoping that somehow, some way, she could reunite with her best friend and everything would be right again, everything would make sense.

* * *

  
  


She’s out with Angela and some of the other Thorns with Fergy along for the adventure when it happens again. They’re at a place with lots of outdoor picnic tables and plenty of hipster food and beverages on the menu. It’s a beautiful day and training was good that week and they’re all happy and joking and snapping pictures and she turns to her left to laugh into Sonnett’s shoulder expecting Sonnett to be there next to her, arm wrapped loosely around Lindsey’s waist, eyes squinting and sparkling in the sunlight as she grins at whatever ridiculous thing one of their teammates has just said.

But there’s no one next to her, just Angela at her right and Fergy down by her feet. There’s no Sonnett where she still feels like there should be and the shock of it makes her go quiet as she blinks at the empty space and processes the absence of her best friend for what feels like the millionth time.

She should be used to it by now, she thinks, as her teammates carry on and Angela looks over at her, her sudden silence catching at least one person’s attention. She gives a hopefully convincing smile and nod and Angela turns back to the group. 

Sonnett would love it here. She loves being outside, loves trying new spots, loves to entertain their friends, would love to play with Fergy and take silly selfies with him, would love ribbing Lindsey for whatever dumb thing she did at practice today.

The knowledge that Sonnett should be here with her right now, enjoying this with her, sours the moment and taints the happiness she was feeling only moments ago.

She reaches for her phone, intent on texting Sonnett because she suddenly misses her so much she feels like she might cry. But she only gets as far as unlocking the screen when she stops herself. It’s not fair to make Sonnett deal with her and her emotions over something that impacted Sonnett’s life far more than it did her own. It’s not fair of her to keep reminding Sonnett of the place she no longer calls home and the people she no longer gets to call her teammates.

She’ll text her later, maybe even FaceTime her if she’s up for it. She puts her phone back down on the picnic table and forces herself to rejoin the conversation of her friends. She very purposely does not look to her left again until they leave and she has to get up.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Some of them go back to Angela’s apartment, order takeout and drink a little wine. She doesn’t get drunk (none of them do, they have practice the following afternoon), but she feels slightly hazy from all the time they spent in the sun. It’s not even four o’clock when she excuses herself and goes back to her own place, Fergy in tow. He’s quiet and obedient in the elevator and the hallway, apparently sensing her introspective mood.

The urge to call Sonnett overcomes her as soon as she’s home and snuggled up on her couch, the blinds drawn and the room half-dark. Sonnett should be with her right now she thinks for the second time today. She should be at the other end of Lindsey’s couch complaining about Lindsey’s feet being too close to her. She should be puttering around Lindsey’s apartment searching for kombucha and snacks. She should be tussling on the floor with Fergy while they half-watch a random movie they’ve both already seen.

She does it without thinking because she needs to hear Sonnett’s voice, needs to see her face, needs to be on the receiving end of her soft smile. She does it without thinking which is why she’s confused when the FaceTime call rings once, twice, a third time, and then there’s darkness and a rustling on the other side of the call followed by a scratchy, slightly concerned voice crackling through her speakers.

“Linds? You okay?” Sonnett mumbles.

She doesn’t respond right away, confusion morphing into an embarrassed realization as the glow of Sonnett’s phone screen illuminates her face in the darkness of what must be her bedroom.

“Linds?” Sonnett asks again because she still hasn’t answered. Sonnett’s voice has slightly more clarity to it, but also more concern.

“I’m fine!” she blurts out. Followed by, “I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot. I forgot about the time difference. Go back to bed, Son. I’ll call you tomorrow. At a normal time, not midnight or three am or whatever time it is for you right now. Shit, I’m really sorry.”

“ ‘s alright,” Sonnett half chuckles, half drawls.

She swallows as she watches Sonnett rub her eyes and shift to prop herself up on one arm in her bed.

“Only went to bed like an hour ago,” Sonnett adds. "It’s one here by the way, not midnight, or three.”

“Shit, Son, that’s still late, and I’m sure you have practice tomorrow. You should sleep. Really, it’s fine.”

Sonnett shakes her head back and forth slowly, her eyes squinting against the glow of her phone.

“Rest day tomorrow,” Sonnett says. “No practice.”

Her sentences are short, voice fuzzy with sleep. Lindsey wishes she was with her, wishes Sonnett was curled up next to her, sleepy and soft and warm.

“Don’t mind being woken up to talk with you, Linessi,” Sonnett murmurs next.

“Are you sure?” she asks, guilt still present even as warmth spreads through her chest at Sonnett’s words.

“Positive,” Sonnett replies. “Lemme just turn on a light real quick.”

Sonnett goes out of view for a moment and reaches off-screen to flick on her bedside lamp. Lindsey can’t help the smile that comes to her face as she watches Sonnett blink against the light and adjust to the increased brightness.

She also can’t help the jump in her pulse when she sees what Sonnett has worn to bed. She’s draped in an old Colorado Rush sweatshirt that she swiped from Lindsey over two years ago. Lindsey had forgotten about it because she rarely saw Sonnett actually in it and figured she must have donated it during her multiple moves this year. But she hadn’t; she’d taken the sweatshirt all the way to Sweden where she was apparently sleeping in it like it was no big deal.

Lindsey almost comments on it but decides against it. They don’t do that; they don’t acknowledge or address out loud all those little moments and things between them that seem much bigger, that hint at how they might really feel. Lindsey has never been brave when it comes to her complicated feelings about Sonnett, and that’s not about to change today.

“What’s up?” Sonnett asks, casual as though Lindsey hasn’t called her at one in the morning and disrupted her sleep. Casual as though this is perfectly normal behavior and they hadn’t just FaceTimed two days ago (and briefly the day before that).

“Uh, nothing really,” she stammers out and once again feels like an idiot for doing this.

Sonnett’s brow furrows in concern and even in the dim light she can see the worry wrinkles form across her forehead.

“Did something happen at practice?” Sonnett questions gently.

“No, practice was fine - it was good.” They don’t discuss the particulars of her Thorns sessions, or that much about the team at all. She knows Sonnett isn’t ready to hear any of it and she’s honestly not ready to share it either.

“I -” she starts, unsure how to continue without sounding sad and pathetic, without revealing too much. Sonnett waits patiently on the other end of the phone. “I just...miss you,” she admits on an exhale.

She’s rewarded with a soft Sonnett smile that manages to radiate warmth and comfort across the digital and physical distance between them.

“I had no idea you were this clingy,” Sonnett teases.

“I’m _not_ clingy,” she protests. “Forgive me for missing my _best friend_.”

“I guess I miss you, too, Linessi,” Sonnet acquiesces with a fond roll of her eyes. “Only a little bit.”

“Wow, I feel so loved,” she snarks back.

“Hey now, I disrupted my sleep cycle for you. That’s true love.”

She can’t argue with that, especially since she was the one who woke her friend in the first place.

“You sure everything’s okay?” Sonnett asks again, clearly unconvinced by her previous claims that nothing is wrong. Except for the glaringly obvious thing that is so very wrong: Sonnett isn’t in Portland anymore, and Lindsey has no idea when she’ll see her next. 

It’s that unknown element that knocks her off-kilter. She can’t remember the last time she didn’t know when she’d get to be with her best friend. Their lives are so planned, revolving around seasons, and trainings, and camps, and friendlies, and tournaments. Even when Sonnett went to Australia that had a definitive end date (and there was no pandemic to account for then). Sonnett’s current contract keeps her in Sweden through November; Lindsey has no clue if she might extend it and she’s too afraid to ask. 

With nearly all her closest National Team friends abroad she’s started to question her decision to remain stateside. She knows it’s technically not too late to get a loan to the WSL; the specter of her time in France still haunts her and makes her cautious. She can’t go through that again. And she loves the Thorns, she really does. But she still might call her agent tomorrow to see if anyone across the pond is interested.

She doesn’t know how to voice any of these thoughts to Sonnett, doesn’t want to burden her when she’s going through her own big life change and adjusting to a new team, a new country, a new style of play. Once again she takes the easy way out.

“I’m good, Son, I promise.”  
  
Sonnett stares at her for a long moment and Lindsey thinks she’s going to challenge her, force her to tell the truth, but she doesn’t.

“Should we start the next chapter?” Sonnett asks her instead, and she feels the coil of tension inside her loosen.

Before she can answer Sonnett is already reaching for the book on her nightstand and flipping it open to where they last left off. It was Rose’s idea that they start a virtual book club while they were apart, and at first she was reluctant to participate. She’s never been a big reader. Her friends eventually wore her down though (like they always did) and Sonnett suggested they read the books together. That ultimately turned into Sonnett reading them out loud to her over FaceTime while she did her best to follow along and not get distracted by the sound of Sonnett’s voice.

“Rose will kill us if we don’t finish it on time,” she says and Sonnett laughs. 

Sam and Rose took book club very seriously and did not appreciate her and Sonnett’s occasional lack of preparation. While Sonnett could BS her way through a book discussion (she credited her time at UVA for that skill), Lindsey didn’t have four years of experience as a college student-athlete to call upon.

“I think we’ll make it. And if we don’t, that’s what SparkNotes is for.”

Sonnett manages to stay awake for almost an hour, reading to her through the phone until her voice gets scratchy and her eyes start to droop.

“Time for bed, Son,” she says when her best friend’s eyes blink closed and she basically nods off mid-sentence for the third time.

“ ‘kay,” Sonnett mumbles and burrows deeper under her covers.

“Don’t forget the light,” she reminds her gently.

She’s impressed when Sonnett actually listens and flails for her bedside lamp.

“Sleep tight, Em.”

“Night, Linds,” Sonnett murmurs back, voice muffled by her pillow. “Love you.”

Sonnett’s already snoring lightly by the time Lindsey finds her voice and gathers enough composure to respond.

“Love you, too,” she whispers through the phone, her words traveling into the ether across mobile data connections to transmit to a pair of ears that can’t hear them because their owner is tucked in bed fast asleep. Another missed moment, another lost connection.

* * *

  
  


There’s an unexpected knock on Emily’s apartment door in the early afternoon in the middle of the week. At first she thinks she’s imagining it because she didn’t order delivery and none of her teammates had sent a heads up text that they were coming over. She goes back to playing Animal Crossing, but not a minute later the knocking returns.

She supposes she has to go see who or what it is this time and abandons her Switch on the coffee table. She quickly checks the peephole expecting to see Pippo or a delivery person with the wrong apartment number and has to do a double-take. 

“What the fuck,” she says out loud to no one. “What the actual fuck.”

She scrambles to fling the door open to reveal Lindsey Horan. Here. In Sweden. At her door.

“Linds?” she questions warily in case she really is seeing things, or someone (Rose) is playing an elaborate prank on her by finding a deceptively good Lindsey lookalike.

“Hey, Son,” Lindsey smiles back sheepishly, bright blue eyes hopeful but nervous.

“How did you - when did you - what are you doing here?” she finally manages to ask.

Lindsey fiddles with the hem of her hoodie - an Arsenal one. It looks new. She’s not sure why she notices this or why it matters, but it feels important.

“I...uh...I’m not really sure,” Lindsey replies.

“Don’t you have a game tomorrow? In Portland?” she questions, quickly running through what day it is in her head. Today’s definitely Friday, which means tomorrow is Saturday, and the Thorns play the Royals at Providence Park. Not that she cares. Not that she was planning on staying up way too late to watch the livestream on Twitch just to catch a glimpse of Lindsey.

Lindsey who is now, somehow, standing in the hallway outside of her apartment in Sweden looking slightly disheveled but just as beautiful as she always does.

She watches intently as Lindsey looks down and rubs the back of her neck. When she lifts her head back up her eyes are hesitant.

“Not anymore,” Lindsey tells her, and that clears up nothing at all.

“Did they cancel it?” She’s sure she would’ve seen something online somewhere if there’d been a positive test or some other cause for calling off the game. “Is everyone okay?”

“No one’s sick,” Lindsey hurriedly explains. “The game is happening tomorrow. I just won’t be playing in it. Or any others this year. At least, not for the Thorns.”

“They _traded_ you?” she exclaims, perplexed and a lot shocked. That makes no sense at all. Sure, they traded away practically everyone else, but they’d never give up Lindsey unless they were forced to. Or maybe if she asked them to, but why would she - _oh_. Suddenly the brand new Arsenal hoodie _is_ important. Suddenly, everything has changed.

“It’s a loan,” Lindsey confirms, must see her reach the conclusion herself. “A loan to Arsenal,” she adds, as if that’s necessary.

She can’t help it, she laughs.

Lindsey’s brow furrows and her eyes scrunch in confusion at her reaction.

“That’s - that’s amazing, Linds. Congrats,” she gets out when her laughter subsides. “Did you come all the way to Sweden to tell me that?”

Lindsey blushes and ducks her head.

“No. Well, yes. But not just to tell you that.” Lindsey jams her hands into her pockets and continues on. “I’ve been in quarantine for a week. All negative tests.”

“Okay…” she’s not sure how this is relevant to why Lindsey is here.

“They said I was cleared to travel, that it was safe. So I came here as soon as I could because I - I needed to see you, Em. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“You could’ve just FaceTimed,” she suggests, still trying to process what exactly is going on right now and how Lindsey’s apparently been in England for a week and she had no clue.

Lindsey shakes her head in disagreement.

“I can’t hug you on FaceTime,” Lindsey explains, and that’s all the warning she gets before Lindsey steps forward into her space and wraps Emily up in her strong arms, buries her face in Emily’s shoulder, and clenches her fists in the fabric of Emily’s shirt like she never wants to let go.

After nearly six months of physical separation it’s _A LOT_ to suddenly have Lindsey this close, to be surrounded by her. She tenses at first, but then her body remembers how to hold Lindsey and she relaxes as her best friend sinks into her arms.

Lindsey exhales a shaky breath against her neck and her shoulders tremble beneath Emily’s hands. It doesn’t take long for her to feel Lindsey’s tears dampen her shirt and she squeezes the taller woman tightly to her while she cries it out, whatever this release of emotions is.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs into the crown of Lindsey’s head. “I’ve got you, Linds. I’m here.” She repeats the words over and over, her voice gentle and her touch soft as she rubs a soothing pattern across Lindsey’s back. It’s been awhile since she’s had to do this, but comforting Lindsey is ingrained in her like a muscle memory.

“Sorry,” Lindsey apologizes, sniffling and wiping at her eyes when she lifts her head from Emily’s shoulder. She drops her hands to Lindsey’s hips, not letting her go far, not ready to lose contact. 

“I didn’t mean to - your shirt - I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying like this. Let me just -”

“Linds,” she cuts in before her best friend starts hyperventilating. “It’s only a shirt, I’ve got plenty of others.” She squeezes Lindsey’s hips in reassurance, partly to calm her and partly to convince herself Lindsey really is here standing before her.

“Right,” Lindsey sniffles and gives her a tight nod. Stray tears continue to trail down her cheeks and Emily lifts her hands to brush them away. She swipes her thumbs gently across Lindsey’s cheeks then curls her hands inside the sleeves of her shirt to carefully dab at the moisture collecting in the corners of Lindsey’s eyes.

Lindsey is quiet through it all, her electric blue eyes steady on her as she works to clear away the remaining traces of tears. She gives Lindsey a once over and tucks a piece of hair that fell loose from Lindsey’s bun behind her ear. Her hand falls to Lindsey’s shoulder and she leaves it there.

“Better?” she questions softly.

Lindsey nods.

She wants to ask more, wants to press Lindsey for explanations to so many things, but she doesn’t. Not yet.

“Wanna see the rest of the place?” is what she offers instead, and Lindsey’s grateful smile is all she needs to know she made the right call.

“Please,” Lindsey replies.

“Right this way, m'lady,” she proclaims with a little bow and an exaggerated wave of her hand that has Lindsey rolling her eyes.

“Loser,” Lindsey teases as she steps further into the apartment and knocks Emily with her shoulder.

And just like that everything falls into place like the miles and time zones between them were never there at all.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued?? We'll see...


End file.
